


I Didn't Mean to Fall in Love Tonight (Could You Pretend That You're in Love?)

by SOMETHINREAL



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Junhui is kind of a dick sorry, Lots Of Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minghao is Sad, Smoking, and hard on himself, junhui has a girlfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 09:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15883548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: But the worst part, although it should be, isn’t any of these things. No, the worst part of it all is that Junhui kisses Minghao like he loves him, and that is just simply too much for Minghao’s crumbling heart to bear.(alternatively: the one where minghao has something that he shouldn't).





	I Didn't Mean to Fall in Love Tonight (Could You Pretend That You're in Love?)

**Author's Note:**

> tite from halsey's is there somewhere from which this fic is based! i've had this in the works for ages now and it was actually originally a johnten fic but i decided to change it last minute haha. hope u enjoy!

Perhaps it started without Minghao even realizing that it had started. When they met for the first time at Minghao’s high school orientation, on the subway that one time in the rain. The initial attraction came when Minghao had first laid eyes on him, he knows this, but how did he get here? What line of events led him to be here, in Junhui’s apartment, watching him dance around the room in nothing but his boxers and socks to a song by  _ The 1975, _ hair still messy from where Minghao had been gripping onto it tightly, scratches still an angry red on his back. The scene makes him smile until he notices the line of photo booth film taped to the wall, showcasing pictures of Junhui and the girl; her pretty long hair tied up in a bun on top of her head, eyes closed as Junhui kisses her cheek. 

His girlfriend. 

How did Minghao get here? Sleeping with his best friend while his best friend’s girlfriend is working the night shift at the office. Falling for someone who he can’t have. How on earth did he get here? How did he get to Junhui pushing him up against the wall and threading his fingers through Junhui’s hair, sharing cigarettes and kisses, leaving before twelve? How did it get to this?

He hates it all. He hates that he’s put himself in this situation. Hates that he feels like shit every day because of it. Hates that he can’t avoid pictures of them together on the internet. Hates that there are pictures of him and Junhui right under him and the girl. Minghao hates that he comes second, no matter what he does. 

Perhaps it started that night at the party, when they drank too much but were still sober enough to know what they were doing. Still sober enough to know that this was wrong and that they shouldn’t and that right now Junhui’s girlfriend was in her own apartment working on midterm papers, completely unaware that Junhui was sleeping with someone else, someone that wasn’t her, someone that wasn’t even a girl. She had no clue. 

Maybe it even started when Minghao began to notice how Junhui’s touches would linger longer than they used to when things were platonic, Junhui was straight, they had just met. His fingertips would lay on the skin exposed between the rips in Minghao’s jeans, drawing circles and zigzags, searing holes into the soft flesh, leaving Minghao’s heart racing. He didn’t side hug like he used to anymore, he hugged full on, always had to be touching Minghao in some way. His girlfriend never thought anything of it, thought that they were just being  _ bros _ when really there was more to it than she could ever imagine and neither Minghao nor Junhui even knew it yet.

Junhui lights up a cigarette and flops onto the bed after the song finishes, taking a few drags before he hands it over to Minghao; snuggles into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. He wishes that it could be like this forever, without a care in the world, kissing and touching and smoking and breathing each other in, filling each other’s lungs, never having to leave. He wishes that he was the one that Junhui could come home to and kiss, wishes that he didn’t feel like such a dick all the time for ruining what could potentially be good. 

The white sheets pool around them, Junhui’s hand is resting on Minghao’s bare torso, fingers going back and forth, back and forth over where his ribs kind of poke through at his skin. He can feel that Junhui’s kissing at his neck, hopes that he can feel the way his body melts under Junhui’s lips, hopes that he knows that all of this is his doing. He never hands the cigarette back, only smokes it to its filter and puts it out in the ashtray beside the bed, ignoring all of the butts that have a ring of ruby red lipstick around them. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let this affect him

They lay there forever, or until it’s nearing ten and she’s going to be home soon, so Minghao has to put on his own clothes and walk to the bus stop and hopes that it shows up soon enough. He tries not to be upset as he sits towards the back, even though there’s only one other person on the bus. His promise is steadily crumbling. 

 

-

 

He’s outside of Junhui’s apartment when Soonyoung calls. He can’t even get a word in before Soonyoung’s rushing out, “Tell me you’re not going.” He wishes that he could say no, but he’s already outside and he’s not in the mood to waste even more bus fare. He can hear Soonyoung sigh on the other end as he remains silent. “Hao, tell me you’re not going to the stupid party.”

“How do you even know about it?” he asks in return, because he doesn’t want to be upfront to save the lecture he knows he’ll get. 

“It’s going to be shitty for you if you go,” Soonyoung tells him, but Minghao remains quiet. “Did you do it again?” he asks after a second.

“Do what again?”

“Sleep with him, Hao. You know damn well what I mean.”

Minghao purses his lips. “I didn’t mean to.”

“How can you not mean to sleep with someone?” 

“It’s not my fault,” Minghao insists. “He called me first.”

“You didn’t have to answer him.”

“He invited me over to hang out.”

He can hear Soonyoung sigh. “You know that when he invites you over to hang out that you’re not just hanging out, Hao. How do you think his girlfriend feels?”

“I don’t know, Soonyoung, do you think I should ask?” Minghao questions sarcastically. “Can you fucking drop it? I won’t do it again, okay. It’s over with, it was an accident. This was the last time, alright? I’m gonna try to break it off. Let it go, please.” 

Soonyoung drops the subject for about ten seconds of silence before he picks right back up where he left off. “She’s a nice girl, Hao. This isn’t fair.”

“Shut up. Shut up, Soon. I know that it’s not fair. Don’t try to tell me things I already know.” Minghao looks up to the balcony of Junhui’s loft, can hear the music playing from the ajar door, wants nothing more than to go to the stupid party and get drunk and avoid Junhui even though it’s his house. “Can you just drop it? Please.”

“Do you love him?” Soonyoung asks. Minghao nearly throws up.

“No, Soonyoung. I don’t.” But he’s lying and he knows it. 

“Okay,” Soonyoung says, and they leave it at that. 

 

-

 

The party is a bit of a shitshow, not because it’s bad or anything, but because Minghao spends most of the night staring at the brunette clinging to Junhui’s arm and working his way through too many solo cups of tequila and punch. He shouldn’t be jealous of her but he is. She so nice and he knows, but won’t admit it. He hopes that she knows that she’s lucky to be with someone like Junhui-- or maybe she’s not, because Junhui is cheating on her. Whatever. She’s lucky to have been able to be so open about it all. He wonders if Junhui lets her touch him the way that he lets Minghao do so, wonders if he even touches her at all, he hopes that he doesn’t, but he knows that the chances are slim. 

He shouldn’t be jealous, because he’s second now, but  _ he came first. _ They knew each other before Junhui knew her. Being second’s just not the same. 

He can sort of make out what Junhui’s saying to her, and it’s the same poetic bullshit that he’d spewed not that long ago to Minghao, that he’d wrote in a notebook and said that he wrote thinking of him. He can tell even from across the room that she’s got a blush on her cheeks. If only she knew. If only she knew that those words were renewed. 

Junhui makes eye contact with him from across the room as the girl starts kissing his neck, clearly tipsy off of whatever she’s drinking, and Minghao can see the fear or uncomfortableness or something in his eyes that tells that he either doesn’t want Minghao to see this or that he doesn’t like it, but it makes Minghao laugh a little bit. After a while though, it hurts a little, watching them, so he goes to the kitchen and refills his drink before walking out the front door because it’s nearing one and he just wants to be home now. He doesn’t look back when he leaves. 

 

-

 

Soonyoung is kind of pissed at him where they’re sitting on his couch, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. “You did it again,” he says, “didn’t you?”

“I didn’t--”

“You didn’t mean to,” Soonyoung finishes with a scoff. He looks away from Minghao. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t--”

“You won’t what, Minghao? You won’t sleep with your best friend again because you know that he’s in a relationship with someone else?” Soonyoung spits. Minghao curls away from him. “Are you even  _ trying  _ to end things with him? Do you like going over to his house and having to tiptoe around because you’re scared that his girlfriend is going to figure out you’ve been more than hanging out there? Do you like seeing her pictures on his walls?”

“What the fuck do you think, Soon?”

“Do you even realize what you’re doing? Do you realize that you’re just ruining things for yourself and everyone else? Have you ever even thought about her? She’s completely oblivious to the whole thing. I know her, Minghao. We’re friends. She’s a nice girl, really. I don’t want to lose two of my friends for something that I have no control over.” 

“You think I don’t know that? Do you think that I don’t know that what I’m doing is really shitty and I’ve fucked things up for everyone? You think I don’t know that she doesn’t deserve it? Of course I fucking know, Soonyoung.”

“So fucking end it then!” Soonyoung snaps at him, like the answer to his problems is the simplest thing in the world. 

“You think it’s that easy? Do you know how it feels to have the same things he says to you said to someone else in the exact same way? Do you know what it’s like to have all of the loving things someone does for you be fake? Do you know what it’s like to love someone as a secondary? No, you don’t. So don’t tell me it’s easy when you don’t even know what it’s like.”

“I thought that you didn’t--”

“Yeah, well, I do.” And he leaves, walking towards the door before Soonyoung can see the tears pooling in his eyes. 

 

-

 

Still, Minghao always comes crawling back to Junhui. It’s so easy to when the cause of all of his problems feels very much like the solution to them too. It’s easy when Junhui makes him feel like he’s floating, gives him enough time to dissociate so he doesn’t--  _ can’t  _ feel anything just for a little while, so that he can have a moment without being reminded that he’s the worst person to walk the earth. So that he can relish in the lies Junhui tells him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Junhui would murmur against his skin, hot and wet with his fingers buried deep inside Minghao. 

“Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he’d say when he pushes in, kissing Minghao’s throat in the way that would usually make Minghao feel good but now just makes him feel numb. 

“So perfect,” he would breathe out finally, spilling into latex. Minghao’s eyes would be closed, the guilt of looking at him too much to bear, but he knows that it’s all lies, knows that Junhui never means them, knows that it’s just a tactic to keep him crawling back, and  _ god _ , does it work. Junhui tells Minghao that he thinks he’s things that Minghao has never been able to see in himself, and he doesn’t believe it when Junhui says it, but  _ god  _ does it make his stomach twist. 

Still, Junhui never lets him cuddle too close to him after they’ve finished sleeping together. He lets Minghao curl into him, but he never hugs back as tight, never gives Minghao the sense of security and love that he so desperately craves. 

Minghao often comes to think about what the worst part of these interactions is. He’d like to think it’s the fact that he has to tiptoe around everyone, that he can never talk about how he really feels and what he really does when he goes out to Junhui’s house at an hour much too late to be normal. He’d like to believe that it’s the pictures on the walls, the ghost of Junhui’s current lover clawing at his throat, the guilt of seeing her smile up at Junhui when they’re out as three scratching, red hot and angry at his skin every time Minghao so much as even thinks of her name. But the worst part, although it should be, isn’t any of these things. No, the worst part of it all is that Junhui kisses Minghao like he loves him, and that is just simply too much for Minghao’s crumbling heart to bear. 

 

-

 

Minghao calls Soonyoung in tears at three in the morning from the park down the road from Soonyoung’s apartment. He’d just been at Junhui’s house. He feels disgusting. He feels like such a monster for ruining something that could be beautiful. All because he wants something that he can’t have. Or, rather, he has something that he shouldn't. 

Soonyoung answers because Minghao knows he cares, even though it feels like he doesn’t sometimes. Minghao knows that tough love has always been his thing, knows that he’s always just trying to look out for Minghao because he doesn’t want him to get hurt. Though, it’s a little too late for that. 

“Hao?” he asks, voice groggy like he’s just woken up. He probably has. God, now Minghao feels even worse for calling. He swears he can be such a nuisance. 

“Soonie,” Minghao whimpers out, biting back a sob. “I’m such an awful person.”

“Hey, hey, hey. No you’re not. Where are you?” Minghao can hear things rustling in the background, as though Soonyoung is getting out of bed and slipping some things on. He probably is because he’s too good for Minghao. Minghao doesn’t deserve it. 

“I just-- I ruin  _ everything _ , Soon. I can’t fucking do anything without fucking things up in the process. I-- I’m  _ ruining  _ a relationship. I know it’s so bad but I  _ can’t stop _ , Soonie. I can’t fucking stop going back to him. He makes me feel  _ good _ , Soon, he makes me feel like I’m not ruined even though it’s all  _ fake _ . I-- I can’t fucking-- I don’t know what I’m going to do anymore. I can’t-- _ I can’t fucking stop myself. _ ”

“Hey,” Soonyoung breathes out, utterly calm. His voice washes over Minghao the way that it feels when he curls up under a thick blanket in the middle of a snowstorm, so soft and warm and reassuring. God, Minghao doesn’t deserve this. He sobs harder at the thought, of the realization of the fact that even though he’s a monster, even though Soonyoung hates it so much, he’ll still help Minghao no matter what. “Hey. Stop crying, Hao. You’re alright. Where are you right now?”

“The park down the street from your house,” Minghao chokes out. It’s freezing. He’d been out with Junhui before, so he’d borrowed a jacket, but Junhui had fallen asleep before Minghao could ask to borrow one again. He didn’t want to take without asking, so he left without one, but as soon as he left the apartment, he’d realized that the buses stopped running at twelve and he was stranded with no coat in the middle of November at three in the morning. So he walked all the way to the park by Soonyoung’s, with his own house being too far, but got tired and had to stop. 

“Are you alright?”

“Cold,” Minghao supplies. The tips of his fingers are blue when he looks down at them. “Can you-- can you--”

“I’m on my way now, alright? I’ll bring a coat and make you a hot drink and we can talk about it when we get home, okay?”

Minghao doesn’t deserve this. He’s too  _ dirty  _ to deserve this. But he can’t let Soonyoung know he thinks that, so he agrees. Soonyoung hangs up. 

 

-

 

Soonyoung’s bed is warm when Minghao crawls into it. Soonyoung had arrived at the park only two minutes later with a coat bigger than Minghao himself and a warm smile. He’s since stopped crying, and hadn’t spoken much even through drinking his sleepy-time tea as Soonyoung liked to call it, nor had he spoken much as he changed into a pair of Soonyoung’s sweatpants and hoodies, and if Soonyoung notices the self-induced scratches on Minghao’s arms he’d used as a form of self-reprimanding earlier in the night, he doesn’t point it out. Minghao’s grateful. 

Minghao does, however speak up when they’re in bed with the covers pulled to their chins. Soonyoung is letting Minghao curl into him, which Minghao is also grateful for because Soonyoung has always been warm and soft and the greatest form of comfort Minghao has ever had. 

“It’s not as easy,” Minghao says quietly. It’s muffled by Soonyoung’s chest, but he must hear because he says something along the lines of  _ what is?  _ “Breaking it off. I know you think it’s easy. But it’s not. I would give anything to not love Junhui, you know that? Anything. It hurts so much, Soonie. But the pain is so good. He gives me what I want and I know that it’s lies, know that he doesn’t care about me like that, that I’ll always just be his best friend and nothing more than someone to fuck when it’s convenient. But his lies are so believable. He makes me feel good. He tells me I’m pretty, that he needs me. I know it’s fake but my heart wants to believe it even though my brain tells me I shouldn’t. 

“And I’m ruining their relationship, I know I am. I know that I’m the homewrecker in this situation and I know that their relationship is going to crash and burn and that it’s my fault. I know that I’m a bad person when I see them together, I know how much of a  _ monster  _ I am when I see a picture of them above a picture of me and him. I know that it makes me horrible. I know. But there’s a part of me that just can’t stop. I know it’s wrong. I know that what I’m doing is detrimental, but I can’t stop because I love him. I love him and I shouldn’t and deep down I know he’s never going to love me back so I cling onto this little shred of hope in me that maybe one day he’ll change his mind. I go back each time he calls hoping that he can put an end to my endless fucking regret and suffering. Can you really blame me for that?”

Soonyoung is quiet. “Hao--”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minghao tells him. “I just thought you should know what goes through my head.”

So Soonyoung doesn’t speak, and neither does Minghao. It’s past five in the morning when both of them fall asleep.

 

-

 

The girl, Yerin, breaks up with Junhui a week later. She calls Soonyoung to tell him, and by extension, he calls Minghao to break the news. Minghao doesn’t know how to feel. Should he be happy? Happy that now he doesn’t have to hide anything or tiptoe? Or should he be sad? Upset that it’s his fault? He doesn’t know but he doesn’t want to think about it. 

Junhui calls him in the afternoon, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t pick up.

 

-

 

Minghao sees her a few days later in a coffee shop downtown. He doesn’t even see her at first, he’s too busy being tired and ordering a coffee to really glance that much around, but she calls out for him. His back stills. There’s no way he can get out of this now, because she’s seen him, she’s called for him. He can’t just walk away or pretend he didn’t hear, but he doesn't think that his brain can handle the interaction about to happen. He walks over anyways. What else is he to do?

She’s still as pretty as she always was, with her long hair and soft eyes and round face. Despite what he knows is about to come, he can’t help but feel comforted in her presence. 

“Hi,” she says. She’s smiling. Not maliciously, not with anything that would suggest she’s upset. It’s genuine. And Minghao can’t help but fathom why. Is it possible that she still doesn’t know?

“Hi,” he responds, sits down when she gestures to the bench opposite. “I’m s--”

“Minghao,” she says. “Don’t apologize. I’m not upset with you.”

“You’re not?” he asks. Why isn’t she mad? He-- he  _ deserves  _ for her to be mad at him.He deserves all of the hate for him she could possibly muster so why is she acting so nice?

“No. I’m not mad at him either. It was mutual,” she says. 

“I don’t understand.”

Yerin smiles tinily, eyes soft when she looks at him. “I cheated too, Minghao. With a girl.”

“You-- you what?” How could this be? She always looked so in love. She acted as though she never even noticed it happening, how is it possible that she was on the same boat as them?

“We didn’t love each other. I acted like I didn’t know, and sure, he cheated first, but there was no love, Minghao. He thought he was really smooth about it too.”

Minghao swallows thickly, toying his his fingers. “How did you know?”

“Well, in the beginning, it was that he kissed me like the dead. There was no emotion or feeling behind it whatsoever. It was like he was bored,” she tells him. But it doesn’t add up. He furrows his eyebrows. Junhui doesn’t kiss him like the dead. He kisses like he loves. Maybe her standards are higher? She must notice his internal dilemma because she cocks her head. “What?”

“He-- he doesn’t kiss me like the dead,” he answers, chewing on his lip. 

“Well, what does he kiss you like?” she asks. 

“He,” Minghao starts, breaking off in a shaky breath. “He kisses me like he loves me. But he doesn’t.”

Yerin’s eyes grow softer, if that’s even possible. “Oh, Hao,” she says, like a mother would talk to her child. “I think you should talk to him.”

 

-

 

The next time Junhui calls, Minghao goes over. 

The picture of Junhui and Yerin no longer hangs above the picture of Junhui and Minghao, nor are there red-ringed cigarette butts in the ashtray by the bed. The bralette that had hung over Junhui’s desk chair is now gone, just like all of the other evidence that Yerin even existed. They’re on the bed cross-legged passing a cigarette between each other. 

“So how does it feel?” Minghao asks once they’re down to the last few puffs. Junhui raises an eyebrow, taking one last drag before putting out the cigarette in the ashtray.

“Being broken up with?”

“The aftermath,” Minghao says. 

“It’s… whatever. I’m not upset. I feel like I have a weight lifted, I guess.” Why is he so nonchalant about the whole thing? He’d been with her for almost two  _ years _ . Shouldn’t it sting a little? 

“Why are you so chill about it?” 

“Because I didn’t love her,” Junhui says, like it’s obvious. “She clearly didn’t love me either. No one got hurt.”  _ Minghao  _ got hurt. He’s been told by so many people the whole time he’s done this that he’s been the bad guy. Now what? Nobody even cares? 

“You-- you  _ should  _ have! I’ve, I--” Junhui kisses him. It’s soft, tender. Minghao evaluates it in his head, and it’s definitely not reminiscent of the dead, nor is it dull or emotionless. It’s loving,  _ full  _ of emotion, not lacking it. But it doesn’t make sense. If Yerin said that it was bland with her, why does Junhui kiss him like this? “Why did you invite me over?” Minghao asks, but he already knows. 

“I don’t want to fuck you today--”

“You--? That’s fine. Um. I’ll go then, I guess.” Minghao makes a move to leave, but Junhui grabs his arm. 

“No, Minghao. I want to make love to you.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Minghao says, the wave of denial hitting him like a ton of bricks. Junhui doesn’t love Minghao. He can’t. Minghao is too dirty. Minghao was just a distraction. “You have to be in love with someone to do that.”

“Minghao,” Junhui says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world to understand. “I am.”

Minghao shakes his head. “No. You don’t. That’s-- that’s stupid. You don’t-- you  _ can’t  _ love me, Junhui. Don’t play with me, please. I just--, you can’t.”

Minghao doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Junhui pulls him into his lap and shushes his sobs. “Hey, no, look at me. I do, Minghao. I have an awful way of showing it, but I do.” Minghao just shakes his head again. It’s impossible that Junhui could love him. 

“You don’t. You can’t. This is all fake. You say thing but you don’t mean them. It’s just more of your hundreds of words that don’t  _ mean _ anything. It’s just a trick-- to-- to get into my pants. You don’t need to lie to me--” But he can’t finish his babbling because Junhui kisses him again. 

“I’m not lying,” Junhui insists. “I know you don’t believe me, Hao, but please, let me show you.”

Minghao weighs his options. He knows that it’s fake, but what more does he have to lose? “Okay.”

So Junhui does like he says he would and makes sweet love to Minghao. And Minghao, all Minghao can do is cry, and cry some more because of it, because he’s never felt this close to Junhui, never felt something this raw and  _ real _ . And Junhui, he just kisses away each new set of flowing tears. 

After, when they’re sated, and Minghao is curled to Junhui’s chest, and Junhui is holding him ( _ holding him _ ), Junhui speaks up. 

“If I had known that you had doubted it earlier, I would have showed you better, Hao. I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.”

Minghao just smiles a little. A good real smile, the first in a very long while. It almost feels foreign on his face. “S’okay,” he says quietly, curling deeper into the warm, bare skin of Junhui’s torso. Junhui threads his fingers through Minghao’s hair, brushing slowly. “I believe you now."

“You don’t,” Junhui says, like he can read Minghao’s mind. “But that’s okay. I’ll prove it to you. You don’t have to hurt yourself over it any more.”

And Minghao, he finally,  _ finally  _ can rest easy. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
